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2014.04.30 - Didn't Know They Came In Red
The very fact that Warren got a message from Bobby Drake caught his attention. It's been a while and he was rather curious as to what the message could possibly be about. Upon listening to the message, he did have to take a few minutes to decide what he was actually going to do in response. A couple of texts were sent before he stopped off at home, briefly, to change out of his suit and tie into something more appropriate for the dreary, chilly weather. He grabbed something to eat before taking flight for Westchester. The route is familiar, even if it hasn't been flown in months. It's only when he gets within spitting distance of the Institute does he pause as if re-thinking this idea. The route is familiar, but as all things do change with time, the skies may be one of the last things to change but there will always be anomalies. Changes in the wind, so to speak. Even on a dreary day like today, there are still those who will challenge the weather and dare the clouds to open up in lieu of more personal vices and needs. In the distance it's only a blip at first, over Breakstone Lake north of the institute; a flash of red against the gray sky, falling out of the sky in a tight spiral. The spot of color in a colorless world expands as it slows and stretches those two bright appendages outward, gliding acrobatically to one side and climbing once again in a more gradual arc. An exhausting path for anyone who knows how wings work like Warren does. Exhausting and strenuous, maybe just a little stupid and clumsy in a couple spots as Jay climbs to try again. Arial maneuvers. Blue eyes squint at the moving flash of color spotted over the all-too familiar lake. That must be who Bobby was speaking of. Catching one of the stronger air currents, Warren allows that, as well as the strength of his wings, to carry him closer to the bright flier. It may be cold and damp, but only those who belong in the sky know that the weather really doesn't matter when one just has to get out and -fly-. He approaches rather blatantly; he's not trying to sneak up on the other or spook him. In fact, he can't help but show off a little, doing his best to be as graceful and effortless as possible in jeans and a custom-fit jacket. "I didn't know they came in red," is the quip once he gets close enough for conversation. It's a peculiar kind of snap-shot vision that Jay catches that boldly pale figure against the monotone gray of the sky during a set of tightly coiled spirals, trying to work himself into exhaustion, using the whole of his body as a counter balance and extension of his legs in lieu of the tail he was missing to control himself. But...let's be honest. Warren's kind of a vision when he gets near enough. The younger flier swings himself around and adjusts to catch the nearest strong wind to glide at a wide arc around to one side. Panting, his hair windwhipped and stained a darker shade of rust-red at the temples, damp in random places from the weather, Jay very simply examines Warren with the same penetrating, half awed look he's used to getting from people sometimes. He has to admit. The white definitely helps. Swallowing a hasty breath, he calls back. "Well. It was either red or white, and I thought it'd be embarrassing if we showed up wearing the same thing." About as different as can be, his voice is heavily burdened with a southern lean to it, dressed in a sleeveless shirt and cargo pants with way too many pockets. No shoes. "True, that could have been quite the faux pas," Warren offers, unable to stop a smirk. At least the kid has a sense of humor! He looks over the other's appearance, taking in the shirt and cargo pants...the two couldn't be more different. Interesting. "What were you trying to do just now? Kill yourself? You do realize that you need to save some energy for actually landing because falling out of the sky just isn't fun." Glancing about, he points to a promontory landing spot...one that sparks yet another memory, "Meet you there. It'll be easier to talk on our feet than battling the rain." With that, he veers off to make his way to the landing, glancing back a few times to the other. Jay licks his upper lip and wipes the back of his hand against his forehead, pointing down to the ripples of the gray water below. "That's why I practice over water. More forgiving if I fall." If. He almost smiles. Almost. A glance down to the spot proposed, the young man nods and swings in his own direction against the weather. Climbing a few yards once more and while Warren takes a more direct path to the landing, Jay breathes deep and lifts his face up toward the rain. One final powerful push from his wings and the younger man lets his momentum die. For a moment, everything is still. And silent. And weightless. Then gravity resumes hold and he falls. With an indulgent sigh, Jay rolls over slowly at first, then quicker with a pull of his extra appendages, snapping them out and gliding in wide circles with small flaps. Back-winging hard when he comes in to land. Just like Warren predicted, he stumbles a few feet, knees almost giving out when he meets the earth again, verdant eyes reaching over toward the aptly named mutant. "You must be Warren..." Warren Worthington winces as he watches Jay lands, but doesn't try to help. It does look like he needs practice and he needed concentration. "And you must be Jay. Bobby left me a message about you," he even steps forward to offer a hand. "How long have you had the wings? I mean, big enough for you to fly on them?" He knows how long it took his own wings to grow in but every mutant is different. "Why don't we take a breather...you look exhausted. How long have you been out here?" Admittedly, he is breathing pretty hard and that is with the natural resilience against exhaustion that comes with it, Jay still shakes off the concern with a shake of his head and steps forward, taking the hand in his with a tip of his head forward; his grasp firm but not the least bit overbearing. "I am. Nice to meet you, sir." A natural inclination toward politeness, the final word rolls off his tongue naturally. "Ah..." He squints upward at the sky, then down at his watch. A durable, plastic thing. "An hour? Just shy. I can't say how long they've been big enough. I used to clip them. Hid them. Been flying a little over a year, I suppose." A sense of polite trying-not-to-stare-but-I-am as Jay's eyes flick back and forth from Warren's face to the looming height of his wings behind him. Sizing him up a little, perhaps, but it's curiosity, not challenge in his face. Noting that his bright appendages still might be a little smaller than Warren's in relation to body size. "You?" Replaced with something closer to horror and, possibly, pity. "You clipped your wings?!" He looks over at the red wings, noting that they are different than his in size, and possibly in general form. After all, not all wings are the same. "It took nearly a year for my wings to grow in, but I was flying about by the time I was fifteen and settled over at Xavier's. How old are you now? Who taught you to fly or was it just learning to 'fall in style'?" That flash of horror over Warren's face is sharp enough to make Jay wince and shift his eyes away briefly before summoning up his self-assurance and standing up straight, again. "Just the primaries. Looked up how they clipped parrots, first. It made them easier to hide at the time." Purposely grounding himself. Well, at least he didn't start plucking in full self-destruction. "There wasn't much style involved, but pretty much. My brother tried to help but it's not exactly something someone without wings can teach. I'm 17, now. They started in when I was about fourteen, I think. Started clipping them when I was fifteen, was found out before I turned sixteen, couldn't try until they grew back. I just got transferred over to the institute a couple months ago." "Good Lord, man...no wonder they called me!" It's true...others who fly are very different. "Look, if you want to hide them, the key is long coats. Frankly, I gave up on trying to hide my wings about a year ago. It was causing me just far too much stress and discomfort and frankly, I got tired of hiding." Warren moves to walk around the other as if inspecting his wings, "They're a little smaller than mine...more streamlined. Maybe more like a falcon or a hawk whereas I'm an albatross." He tosses some hair back before asking, "Want a few pointers? I really think you're working far too hard." Jay scoops a hand through his damp hair, slicking it backward with a gesture. "They called you because of something completely unrelated. Drake doesn't know about my history with my wings." As if speaking about them made them itch somehow, Jay shudders, shaking the looming figures on his back, water droplets cascading off the feathers. "I stopped really trying to hide them shortly before I transferred to the school." He doesn't go into reasons but after a while it does just seem cumbersome. Jay's head turns as Warren starts to walk around him, inspecting. Under the scrutiny, the younger man turns slightly, shying his wings away from Warren, as if waiting for him to try to reach out and touch them. "I was trying to wear myself out, if I'm going to be honest." He has to admit, quietly, carrying on swiftly. "But I'll take some pointers. I know I lack the experience you have, I'd be stupid to ignore it." Warren Worthington isn't about to reach out and touch another's wings. After all, he doesn't like his own wings touched without permission. "I'm not going to touch them, don't worry. I'm the last person who would do that," is offered as Jay turns away from him as he moves. "Unrelated? Do tell. I just got a message that there was another kid with wings at the school." Blonde eyebrows then arch at the admission, "Why were you trying to wear yourself out? Letting off steam? I still think you need to learn how to land though." A muted smile of gratitude for the reassurance, Jay turns to face Warren again. "I think that I just reminded him of you so he figured he'd give you a call." Jay remarks in a general round about way. "People generally bring you up when they see me, I hear it a lot. I guess our mutation is rare enough that they see another person that looks like something out of a bad biblical movie and they figure..." Gesturing mildly as he trails off. Not bitter nor proud that he's heard Warren's name on repeat since his relocation, it's factual and calm. "Blowing off steam, yes. Landing is rough, I will admit." Licking his upper lip thoughtfully, verdant eyes flick back up toward Warren's wings, then drop back to the man's face. "Who taught you?" "Hmm," is offered in response to the 'real' reason Bobby called. "Something tells me that the resemblance is only because of the wings. You don't strike me as a snobby, selfish, arrogant, egotistical hedonist." It's said with a smile, but Warren knows what he is and right now he's not ashamed to admit it. "What name are you going by? I mean, not that I'm doing much of anything, but I'm mostly curious." The question gets a grin as he steps back to better converse, "I taught myself, mostly...through trial and error. I had a little help from the Professor once I got here, but there were far fewer of us when I was here. There were only five students." Jay's expression is a practice of neutrality, though his wings do shiver a little at the sound of Warren's 'hmm' in his pretty obviously paper-thin explanation. He simply didn't want to get into it. Though Warren's laundry list of faults make the corners of his mouth twitch slightly. "No, I'm the quiet, self-depreciating, aloof musician red-neck hick with the standard million screaming siblings everyone thinks is going to try to kill himself model." His own smile a little wry and tired looking, but honest. He's aware enough of how he must seem and how he is. "My name is Icarus." Without a single doubt or bit of uncertainty in that chosen name, Jay nods slightly to the mention of five students. "Right. You, Drake, Mr. Summers, Mr. McCoy and Ms. Grey, right? The original x-men. Sam talks about the five of you a lot." "No doubt they're going to like you much better than they liked me then. Your faults seem to impact social interactions less," Warren smirks but it then fades. "Are you going to try and kill yourself? Because really, that's a stupid idea for a number of reasons. I say this and I barely know you." Brows rise again at the codename, "Flew too close to the sun, did you?" Blue eyes look to the bright red wings again before he looks back to the younger man's face. "That's the five. And does he? Sam...Sam..." does he know him? "I have a history. It didn't work. I'm almost surprised Drake didn't mention that." Jay explains of Warren's advice that killing one's self is generally a bad idea. Though there is a muted smile when Warren caught on to his name. He expected as much. Many things can be said of Warren Worthington, but Jay didn't think that 'stupid' was one of them. "Fell a long way." Just your standard world-weary 17 year old with a penchant for sad stories and a musician's heart. "Sorry. Sam's my brother; Cannonball. He works for SHIELD, now. You don't know him. I would've heard about it." Warren Worthington shrugs, his wings rustling at the movement, "Bobby doesn't really talk to me much anymore. No one there does." He waves all of that off dismissively, "I'm sorry that you had stuff going on, but...I mean, we all have. Maybe not all the same experiences, but most mutants that you meet will have some tale of troubles to tell." Not him, of course, but others. "Well, since you have wings, you really shouldn't be falling at all anymore." A hand reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, "So, when you land, what are you thinking about? What are you aiming for? Have you watched how birds land? Take a look at some videos, especially in slow motion." "It's in the past." Jay sums that possibly awkward conversation in four words, putting it in a neat box and setting it aside so Warren doesn't have to attempt to deal with it. The taller man points out the obvious merit of having wings and Jay can only offer a ghost of a smile, easy and genuine in spite of being quiet. His wings fan out behind him in a dramatic red backdrop in the drizzling weather. The younger man's smile turning a little wry. "That's what Icarus thought, too." A short shift and shuffle of feathers and they fold back up against his back, green gaze latching on to Warren's for steady eye contact as he listens. Nodding once. "That's something I've done since I decided I wanted to try flying. I have the broad strokes but birds seem to have that advantage with...you know..." He flexes his bare feet into the grass, toes grasping. "Feet that can grab. When they hit a perch, they can stick it. Closest I've come is dropping straight down after a couple of backwings or...running." He shrugs. "Icarus' wings were also made of wax. They were flesh and bone and blood and feathers. Well, maybe there were feathers..." Warren muses before they go back to the talk of landing. "Birds do have talons, sure, and we have to compensate." He then holds a hand out, horizontally, with his palm facing the ground, "Birds fly like this and then, when they land, angle more vertically. Now, the sort of go back so that they can grab those branches or what-have-you and we don't have that advantage." His hand is then turned up so that it's vertical, "I find that I have to backwing more and almost fly forward vertically to get a smooth landing. Does that make sense?" Jay smiles wanly and shrugs when Warren points out the fault in his metaphor. "And angels aren't hedonistic snob millionaires. We do what we can, but 'cherub' just seemed emasculating." The landing lesson watched intently between low jokes, the tall 'elbows' of Jay's wings looming over his head shift forward then press back not entirely consciously as he watches Warren mimic the movement of a bird with his hand. "Fly...forward vertically." Jay murmurs his repeat then shakes his head. "Show me? I can't visualize it." "Oh, 'Icarus' is much better than 'Cherub'," Warren agrees. "It's also a bit mysterious...a little dark. Better than 'Angel', to tell the truth, but I didn't choose that one. Doesn't much matter anymore, really." There's another shrug before he gives a nod at the request, "Sure. I can do that." He takes a couple of steps to get back into the skies and circles around a couple of times before coming in for the landing. As he tried to explain, he tilts up so that he's vertical and backwings, actually moving forward a few feet even as he angles towards the ground. One foot is definitely set down, a step allowing for additional inertia. "Help at all? I mean, sure, there may be times where landing gracefully just won't happen, but...well...that's few and far-between now for me, at least." "Well, you can't really look like you and not have people calling you Angel, no offense intended." Jay arches one eyebrow up over the other, gesturing mildly with a flick of his fingers up and down to mean Warren. A step backwards, he gives the blond some room to take back to wing, barely noticing as his own pull away from his back a little and flutter anxiously while he watches the other man take off. A familiar like flutter in his chest, Jay combats it with a deep breath to keep himself grounded. A hand lifted to combat the weather while he watches Warren take a lap and come back. The rush of the wind and flapping of those large wings in powerful, more capable strokes than he's been able to manage in backwing all watched, resonating with some innate sense of understanding in him. Pieces slowly starting to slide into place that he couldn't quite immediately grasp on his own or through explanation. One step. One lousy step. Jay set the bar high in his head and nods once to Warren. "Yes. I see what you meant, now. Thanks. I just need more practice. Control." Warren Worthington nods, "It's the basics, man. Walk before you run. When you can control your landing, it'll be easier to land in smaller places, with people around...maybe with some tricks to impress folks," his grin returns then as he pushes damp hair off his forehead. "Also, quit working yourself to exhaustion. Being tired isn't going to help. I mean, stretch yourself, sure...see what you can do and experiment, but I don't see the purpose of working yourself until you drop. Seriously. That's just asking to get hurt and do you really want to be stuck inside nursing something sore and unable to get outside into the air?" Jay's mouth purses into a thin, flat line at the mild admonishment. "I heal quickly. I'd have to do something fatal to keep myself out of the sky." One of his cheeks hollow as he bites on the inside of his mouth, admitting after a moment of pause. "I see what you're saying, it's just one of the few outlets I have." Teenage boy syndrome, struggling for autonomy in strange nonsensical ways. There's another brow arch at the mention of healing quickly, "You don't have family from New York, do you?" Because they do seem to be strangely similar in terms of powers...at least from what Warren has learned. His wings flick some droplets off of them even as he tilts his head to one side, "I've been there. Maybe you need to find a new outlet? You mentioned you were a musician...maybe use that sometimes too? Count yourself lucky. I don't have any talent like that." The question of family is a little on the confusing side, but other than a faint twitch of his brows together, Jay simply answers. "I have a lot of family. Cousins I've never heard of, it seems I'm always running into someone somewhere. We came over in Jersey, I think, and we ended up in the south. Why?" But his awareness of his wide-spanning family tree is vague at best. Jay offers a faint smile. "I get the feeling that you found a way to cope, somehow. What do you do, now? You said you weren't doing much. What did you mean?" "Just curious, mostly. I mean, how often do you find two mutants with very similar mutations?" But then again, sometimes even siblings have very different mutations. "Jersey, huh? Well, it'll be interesting to look into a family tree." Or have someone else look into it. There's another shrug then, "Now? I work...and I party. What else is a snobby, arrogant, egotistical hedonist expected to do?" "I didn't think that mutations were exactly genetic. I have two siblings who are mutants so far and none of our powers are even remotely alike." Then again, he's also the one kid of ten with red hair. Lucky him. There's a funny quirk of a smile and vague turn of Jay's head, shaking a couple droplets of rain from his hair. "I don't know. Why I asked. But..." Letting his eyes sweep over Warren's person, a sense of mild introspection to him, Jay's mild nature not mistaken for shallowness as he looks over the soaked through, if well-tailored other man. "I don't know. Seems like there's more to you if you scratch the surface." Observing mildly, but not pushing. Not impressing upon him any sort of responsibility. For Jay or anything else. "It might not be...but it's interesting, no?" Warren offers at the mention of mutant siblings. At Jay's observation, he then gives a slow, almost sad smile. "Well. If there is, no one really seems to care. They just expect the surface and it's a lot easier to just show people what they want to see." He reaches out to give the other a quick clap to the shoulder, "If you ever go into the Business World, you'll find that to be the case. Show people what they want because they don't care about anything else." Digging into a pocket, he pulls out a soggy money clip and takes out a similarly soggy business card, "Here. Call if you have questions or want a flying buddy or something. I'm usually busy during most weekdays, but..." but he might be willing to skip out on work. A gentled tension makes Jay's eyes squint at the corners, trying to read into that small smile hinting at a maudlin angle that Warren gives him. Quickly, he drops his chin to blink the expression away, scooping a hand through long hair and shivering when a stream of water slips down his collar from it. "Well, the business world isn't the only one out there. And we're not in it now." He shrugs one shoulder mildly, looking back up to Warren. "I like looking a little deeper. Must be the musician in me." Quirking a shadow of a smile. Jay takes the card when it's offered, flicking it thoughtfully in his fingers before carefully trying to put it into his own soggy wallet. "Thanks. I don't usually try to bother people too much. Don't like being a pest. If you mean it, though..." Trailing off as well, Jay lets the sentence hang. "How often do you find two mutants with similar mutations, huh?" Stealing Warren's words and taking a step back, helping detach the conversation. "Thanks. For coming up." Sincere. Guileless. That honesty comes to Jay without any effort. He isn't used to people attempting to look deeper...unless they happen to be a particular ex-girlfriend. Warren shifts briefly before he gives a little shiver, "Well, if you find something, let me know. I think if there was any, it's been filled in." There's a wry chuckle before he waves the other off, "Go. Get warm. Take a hot shower and have some tea or cocoa or something like that." A nod is given to the card, "I mean it. It's not a bother. It would be nice for me to have a flying buddy too." The red-headed avian-man chuckles softly and takes another step off with a nod. "I'll see you around, then." A crooked little smile and Jay spreads his wings wide in a stretch, taking the handful of steps he needs to push off, he takes back into the sky, heading for the school. Calling back as he takes off. "Try not to party too hard. I hear it's a hard life; the privileged one." "Too late!" is called back even as Warren prepares for his flight back to the city. He watches the redhead a few moments before he also takes to the air. Of course, he can't help but smile a bit on the way home -- he's missed feeling useful and having a conversation with a real person and not a 'yes' man or a member of his posse. Category:Log